The Truth Put on Speaker

I did not trust Narelle’s tears. Tears come easily when the damage is finally visible, and I have seen people use them like a clean rag over what they did. She knew what Lyle had done. That was the part I kept turning over while she spoke.

Putting the call on speaker felt crueller than anything I said to her. Ben needed the truth from her mouth, not my edited version. I wanted to protect him from the exact shape of the lie, but protecting him from it would have been another kind of control. He listened without interrupting. Joonie and Darcy looked at one another. Sometimes a rescued man hears his own death denied and the silence afterward is worse than the cruelty that came before it.

I keep thinking about how quickly a person can choose the safer harm. Lyle knew Narelle’s mother could be frightened into losing everything. He used that fear, then left Narelle to carry the ugliest piece. She chose him. I am angry because her confession does not absolve her, and I am angry because I believe part of her did want to believe the denial.

I said clearly that an apology cannot undo what she did. The truth is, I wanted more from the words. I wanted them to make Ben safe again. I wanted the damage to be clean enough for me to stop counting it against everyone.

My ribs ache when I stay still for too long. I noticed that more than I noticed the rain. Ben was close enough to hear if my breathing changed, so I made sure it did not. There are easier truths to carry than the one Narelle finally spoke.